My daughter and I were getting ready to go to a concert. We had eaten a quick supper and she asked, “how do you want to get there?” It had been a mild December, so we could walk. But it was already dark. I haven’t yet ridden my Power Chair on sidewalks at night. “We can call a cab,” I decided. A company in town was offering wheelchair accessible taxis. “I can ride my Power Chair and hop right into the back of the cab,” I explained. For some reason, I was feeling tired and uneasy about going out. Looking to my right I saw my walker and said, “I miss those Walker Days.” I caught my daughter’s gaze as she suppressed a frown. I admitted, “I can’t believe I just said that!”
What was I saying? What could I possibly be missing?
Previously, I would drive, lifting the walker to place it behind the driver’s seat. Parking at a handicapped spot close to the entrance meant I could take out my walker and slowly make my way to the theater. Usually visiting the bathroom before the show started and then taking my seat. There was a time when this was do-able. When these activities involved a little bit of duress. Just enough struggle, but not so much to tire me out. I live with struggle. These days getting up from bed can be difficult. I think I was missing the days when the struggle involved walking. When the walker supported my weight enough that I could do it for a little bit. Now walking is so hard; it isn’t walking anymore,